


Giving head, in the literal sense.

by kylofucker (cozmopolitan)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Crack, Masturbation, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-11 20:53:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5641570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cozmopolitan/pseuds/kylofucker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylo has some time to himself.<br/>Unsurprisingly, he shares his free time with his right hand and his Darth Vader helmet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Giving head, in the literal sense.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a crackfic. It's short. I have nothing else to say here.

He was breathing heavily through bared teeth, moans often escaping his barely parted lips.

Kylo Ren regretted nothing. He never regretted something as sinful as this. This was his guilty pleasure, after all – masturbating into the helmet he heralded as a godly item, put up on a pedestal for him to admire when he retreated to his chambers.

He was thankful no one noticed the weird smell coming from it. It smelled damp… almost fleshy. He often wore his helmet during his masturbational escapades to dampen the horrifying stench.

Another brisk, uncontrolled pump down his girth. He was shaking so much that he found it hard to even masturbate in the first place. But he would persevere. 

His gloves had been removed, thankfully. He had made the mistake of not removing his gloves before _choking his chicken_ , having to explain strange discolourations on the leather of his gloves to Hux.

Kylo had blamed it on a cooking accident. Hux didn’t believe him. Kylo hadn’t spoken to him since. It was all too embarrassing.

He palmed desperately at his cock, other hand grabbing desperately onto the edge of the pedestal where the helmet lay, nails digging into the surface.

“Ah, god dammit,”

His voice modulator crackled to life with his desperate moans.

“Grandfather,”

His hand began to prune as more and more precum coated it. His wrist ached as well. He had been edging for a good twenty minutes. He was desperate to cum, but held back.

This time, he would coat the helmet like a sticky warm cinnamon bun fresh out of the oven with his own semen.

A filthy fantasy of his, determined to make it true.

“I will finish…” a pause to breathe, choking back tears as he could feel his balls tightening up, begging to release its seed. “What I started,”

His legs shook, barely able to hold himself up. "Fuck,"

His balls were the _Death Star_ , and his cock was its _superlaser_. Indeed, Kylo unironically referred to his genitalia with such terms. 

_Charging lasers_ , murmured Kylo, quiet enough so his voice modulator would not pick up his roleplay-esque speech.  _Ready to fire in three, two, one_...

In his hand, his cock burst forth with what felt like an ocean of semen. He aimed at the helmet, some of the cum dripping onto the floor below. He had edged so long that his orgasm felt like it lasted a full thirty minutes, even if he had only been standing there as he came for about five seconds. 

Kylo was breathing so hard that his helmet's filter had somehow broken, his visor fogging up. He didn't need to see, though - his head was in the clouds now.

" _God fucking dammit_ ," he spoke, voice clearly slurred. He gave his cock rapid strokes, his hips pumping in time with his orgasm. 

The poor Vader helmet was drenched in semen. The smell was astoundingly disgusting, but Kylo paid no mind. He had eaten too much red meat, and had not drank enough pineapple juice. 

Another five seconds, and his orgasm came to a close, cum still dripping in long strings from his slit. He doubled over onto the ledge, hands grasping desperately at it.

Tiredly, he looked down to admire his work, visor still fogged from his hot breaths. Indeed, the helmet now looked something like a crispy, burnt cinnamon bun - of course, a cinnamon bun that smelled dank and filthy, but Kylo was happy either way.

He tucked his damp cock into his pants, straightening himself out. That was the third time he had jerked off that day, and it was only six in the morning. He had a long day ahead of him, wondering how he'd fit all nine of his other masturbation sessions into his busy schedule. He'd have to figure that out eventually.

As he leaned over the pedestal once again to stabilize himself, Kylo noticed something curious inside of the helmet. Unable to see exactly what it was, he removed his helmet.

He squinted hard, unable to take a closer look without being overcome by the smell. It took him a few moments, but he finally recognized what it was after a few horrifying moments of realization.

 

What he found inside was the charred head of Anakin Skywalker, burned flesh clinging to the skull as if its life depended on it.

Kylo screamed like a bitch.


End file.
